Manannan Trilogy

by Michele McGrath

  Freyja, don’t let them kill him. Don’t let me trip. Let Dag be nearby, she prayed desperately.

  Footsteps pounded after her. Many footsteps and they were gaining! The road had never seemed so long. She was out of the meadowland, dashing through gorse, which caught at her skirts. Her pursuers were catching up!

  Please, Freyja, let me get to them. Don’t let these men catch me. To hell with the owl. Dag will hear me if I shout!

  She ran straight into the arms of a tall warrior. Other figures rose at his side and a shower of arrows flew through the air. She whirled to see the men who had followed her writhing on the ground.

  “What’s happening?” the tall warrior asked and she recognised his voice.

  “Dag! They’ve taken Edan,” she gasped. “He’s all alone. He helped me to get away and come for you. Oh, come quick!”

  Dag stiffened, turned and yelled to his crew who were swarming up the path from the point.

  “They’ve got Kari. Follow me.”

  “Where is he?” He gave Emer a slight shake.

  “In the middle of the longhouse. Rolf’s dead. Edan killed him.”

  Someone gasped and Hari said out of the darkness,

  “Follow us, we’ll take you straight there.”

  The men split into four groups, following Hari, Njall, Freydis and Emer. They all pounded up the slope and across the fields. Within moments the longhouse had been surrounded. A few men burst out of the door and immediately died on the swords of the attackers. Dag ran through the main doorway and into the torchlight, Emer at his heels.

  “Kari!” Dag screamed. “Edan! Where are you?”

  A faint sound answered him. Dag raised his battleaxe and dived into a crowd of men. They had been kicking at something that lay on the ground, while others watched. Everyone was too intent to hear the raiders approaching. Now they wheeled round.

  One man turned fell, his head almost cleft in two at Dag’s first stroke. Another reeled as his arm was severed. Emer was thrust aside as more of Dag’s crew rushed up to fight at his side. Then he was standing astride a prone body and killing anyone who approached. Horror caught at Emer’s mind as she realised who the man must be. She threw herself on her knees, behind Dag’s legs and lifted Edan’s head. His face was a mass of blood and so swollen she would not have known him.

  “Is he alive?” Dag’s voice was harsh.

  “I’ll find out.” Hurriedly she reached for his arm, putting her finger on the large vessel in his wrist. Its throb was faint but it was there.

  “He is, Dag!” she screamed.

  “Odin be praised.”

  Emer looked up. Dag still stood over her but the other men had spread out across the long house. Scuffles and fights were everywhere. Women were screaming and rushing about. Emer realised no one had had time to send them away. A few men were lying on the floor, their arms over their heads. Others stood against the walls, offering no resistance. They had their hands crossed, showing they were unarmed.

  A slight moan made her look down. Edan’s eyes were closed but his lips were open. She ignored the rest of the fighting and ran her hands over his body, trying to find his wounds. She winced as she counted them. He had a gash on his forehead, black eyes, a crooked nose. He quivered away when she touched his side and she knew his ribs were broken. She dared probe no more in case she caused him damage. One of his feet had been smashed and he had cuts and bruises everywhere. She was surprised that no one had used a dagger on him, until she remembered her mother telling her about the penalty for murder. Killers were thrown over the cliffs or set adrift in an open boat with no food, water or oars. The men who had beaten Edan intended to cause him pain, not to kill him. They wanted him to be alive and conscious when he went over the cliff edge or was towed out to sea. Then he would know a terrible fear as he fell or faced an agonising death from thirst.

  Dag moved away and lowered his axe. Emer realised that the screams and the sounds of battle had all but stopped.

  “Is it over?” she asked, timidly.

  “Almost. A few fled outside. Kari?”

  “His ribs are broken and one of his feet. He has a slash on his forehead and his nose is awry. There may be more wounds but I dare not move him to find out. I’m not as clever as my mother or the Red Lady in such things.”

  Dag knelt down beside her and made a quick examination of his own.

  “He should live, I think. He’s strong. Find Thorstein or any of Hari’s people who are skilled in the treatment of wounds. Go now. I’ll stay with him.”

  Half demented, Emer rushed out of the longhouse calling out, “Thorstein, Blin, Vokki, Kolla!”

  She found Thorstein with the other warriors, herding the men of the village into one of the animal pens. Hari was there too, helping to identify his enemies from his friends. He gripped her shoulders, looked into her face and then clutched her to him.

  “Thank the gods you’re alive.”

  “Edan saved me from being blinded by your brother, but he’s badly wounded. I need Thorstein and Blin as well.”

  “I’m here,” Thorstein said. “Where is he?”

  “In the longhouse. Dag is with him. Oh please, go quickly.”

  “We have put the women and children in the bathhouse for now,” Hari said. “Blin is with them.”

  “Kolla?”

  “Also there.”

  Emer turned and ran in that direction. She burst through the door and was nearly skewered on the tip of an outstretched sword.

  “Let me by,” she screamed. “We need Blin and Kolla. There are so many wounded…”

  Drifa rose from her seat. “You dare to come here, you witch! If you hadn’t come back my son would not be dead.”

  Emer ignored her.

  “Blin? Kolla? Anyone else who can tend wounds.”

  “I’ll kill you!” Drifa screamed and leaped. Drifa’s strong hand closed upon Emer’s throat. Instinctively, she brought her knee up hard between the woman’s legs, as she had been taught. A dagger sliced down her side before Drifa reeled away.

  Emer’s action had deflected the blow meant for her heart. Emer hardly felt her wound but something snapped inside her. She flung herself onto the writhing woman knocking her to the ground. Emer caught at the dagger she still held and with the twist Olaf had shown her, she broke the woman’s hand. Drifa screamed and the dagger fell. Emer did not even try to pick it up. She pounded Drifa’s face with her fists putting all her strength and pent-up fear into the blows. She reached out, her fingernails slashing rows of blood across Drifa’s cheeks.

  Hands gripped her hair and forced her upwards, away from Drifa. Emer kicked backwards as hard as she could. Something cracked, someone screamed and the hand on her hair was released. She whirled around, hands clenched, eyes wild, ready for more. Halla lay, curled into a ball, holding her leg and screaming.

  “Enough,” Kolla said. “She cannot fight any more and neither can Drifa. Leave them alone.”

  “They attacked you and you’ve won.” Blin stepped forward and stood looking down at the two women. “Mark them. It’s your right and then they can never attack you again and live.”

  “Mark them?”

  “Slash them on the face, so they will scar.”

  “I can’t,” Emer began and then she remembered Niamh had marked once the evil Kolgrimma, who had tried to poison her.

  “If you don’t, they will try to kill you again,” Kolla said. “Mark them. Then, if they try again, they can be killed.”

  “Do it!” Emer whirled. Hari stood by the door watching her. “It’s a warning and revenge at the same time.” He pulled the dagger from his belt and gave it to her.

  Emer drew a deep breath and bent down to the prone women. Drifa could not see the knife coming; her eyelids were too swollen from Emer’s blows. She made hardly a sound as Emer slashed quickly across her forehead and both her cheeks. Emer thought that the woman must have been unconscious. For that she was thankful. She was suddenly aware of the terrible beating s
he had given Drifa.

  Halla was a different matter. She had to be held down as Emer slashed at her, squirming and shrieking her defiance

  Emer rose and handed the dagger to Hari.

  “May I never do such a hateful thing again.”

  “They would have been gleeful, if you’d been burned for a witch or blinded. Don’t waste your sympathy on them.”

  Suddenly all the stiffness seemed to leave Emer’s body. She dropped into a heap on the floor and started to sob.

  21

  By evening, all was quiet in Atli’s village. Few of the men, who had supported Rolf, survived the fighting. The three who lived were for the moment under guard, until their fate could be decided. New graves had been dug in the burial ground. In them friend and foe would be laid to rest the next day. Rolf’s body was among them. He had been found in the longhouse, the hilt of Edan’s dagger protruding from his throat. Emer thought he must have died instantly because the knife blade was long enough to reach his brain. Rolf had other wounds too, which had made great patches of blood all over his rich clothes.

  “I’m glad you did not kill him,” Emer said to Hari as they stood looking down at his body. “For all he tried to kill you and it was your right to revenge yourself on him, it would have been kin-slaying.”

  “I know. I’m happy he is dead and Edan saved me from killing him. Rolf would find some way to come back and haunt me if I had.” Hari grinned. “How is Edan?”

  “Sore and badly injured but alive. Blin reminds me of my mother. She’s not shocked, no matter how bad the injuries are and she knows just what to do. Kolla, Vokki and Thorstein also have knowledge of such things. We’re lucky to have them with us here. Mother tried to teach me her skills, but I preferred to go fishing or riding with my father. I wish I had listened to her now; I might have been more useful.”

  “You can follow orders, fetch and carry, as well as anyone else. Even skilled healers need people to run their errands. Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s not like you.”

  “Edan was injured because of me. If I hadn’t made a mistake and spoken to Laara, he wouldn’t have tried to save me. If he dies, Renny will never forgive me, nor will Finnr. What a fool I am.”

  She started to cry again and Hari took her into his arms, kissing the top of her head and soothing her.

  “Hush, anyone could make such an error. You had no reason to know that Laara had feelings for Rolf. I didn’t know it either. Edan won’t blame you.”

  “I blame myself.”

  “What’s done is done. What happened is in the past and you can’t change it. You can change the future though. Let’s go to Edan and see what help we can give him.”

  Hari and Emer walked to the house where she had dreamed her dreams and which was used in time of sickness. Four cots and six straw palliasses almost filled the room, each one containing a groaning man. Romi had been sitting by the side of Edan’s bed. At their approach, she shuffled over to make room for them. Emer reached over and took Edan’s hand in hers.

  “How is he?” she asked Romi.

  “Blin isn’t sure so she set me here to watch him and to call her if there was any change. He is trussed up like a chicken, so he can’t move. His lungs don’t seem to have been punctured, but they don’t want him to jar his ribs. He must be very uncomfortable.”

  “Has he regained his senses?”

  “Not yet.”

  Emer stared at Edan’s face. His skin was white, where it was not blackened with bruises. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead. His breathing was light, but it was there, hissing in and out of his mouth. His broken nose had been packed with material to try to keep it straight.

  “I’ll stay here with him,” Emer offered. “That’s something I can do to repay my debt to him. You go, Romi, and ask Blin what else is needed. You’re more skilled than I am.”

  Romi nodded and rose, bumping into the tall figure of Dag who had come in quietly and stood behind her, looking at his brother. Romi staggered and Dag caught her. He smiled and Emer saw something flare for an instant in his eyes. He moved aside with a word of apology and Romi went out of the hut. Dag stood looking after her until she was out of sight.

  Romi is a pretty girl. Dag is a man who likes women. She’s good natured and kind. She would make a fine mistress here, if Dag has the sense to realise it, Emer thought.

  Dag stared at his brother and frowned.

  “Blin said he would live, but he doesn’t look much like it at the moment,” he said.

  “If Blin says so — you can believe her,” Hari told him. “She’s seen enough men wounded and pulled others back when we all though they would die.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right.” Dag slapped Hari on the shoulder, turned and walked away.

  “Do you want me to stay with you?” Hari asked Emer.

  “No need for two of us and they will need you elsewhere.”

  “Probably.” Hari ran his hands through his hair. “I’ll have food and ale sent to you and the others who are here.”

  That night was one of the longest Emer could ever remember. She was achingly tired, but she would not close her eyes. She had a dark lantern brought to her and by its light she kept examining Edan’s face. He did not move much, but once she saw him start to frown and then stop suddenly, as if the movement hurt him. She moistened a rag with water and bathed his swollen lips. She dared not do more, in case he could not swallow and choked.

  Blin, Kolla, Thorstein and Dag all came to see her before they went to rest. Hari offered to spell her but she refused.

  “You will have many things to do tomorrow. Rest now. It’s in my heart that Edan will live or die tonight and then I can sleep.”

  The change came with the dawn and brought life not death. Edan’s eyes fluttered and opened and then quickly closed again. For a few seconds Emer wondered if she had truly seen the movement, until he did it again.

  “Water.” The word was very faint.

  “Can you swallow?”

  A nod, only a small one, but she saw it. Carefully she dribbled a few drops into Edan’s open mouth and watched him swallow.

  “More.” She repeated the action. Then he lay still again, but it seemed to her that his skin had grown less pale and the sweat was gone.

  Dag and Hari came together. The first rays of the sun flooded through the door and lit up the room. Dag knelt beside his brother. Edan, perhaps sensing another presence, opened his eyes again.

  “So you live to plague me, little one,” Dag said. He stooped nearer to hear Edan’s one word,

  “Always.”

  “You’ve done well,” Dag told Emer. “I’ll send one of the other women to you. When she comes, go and rest.”

  It was Freydis who came and Emer was thankful, knowing she was trustworthy.

  “Thank you for coming, I can sleep now.”

  “I’d rather be here than up in the graveyard,” Freydis said, “watching Drifa mourning for Rolf. She’s pretending to be heartbroken…”

  “He was her son.”

  “That one hasn’t got a heart to break. It’s her position she’s grieving for. Go and watch her if you don’t believe me.”

  “I’m going to sleep. I don’t care about Drifa, but how many others died yesterday?”

  “Hajalgrim and Ranso from Dag’s crew. Yki, Par, Egill, Stafn and Ebbo from the village. Two women were killed as well, but all the children survived.”

  “Two?” Emer had already heard about Arla’s death. A sword had struck her as she ran from the longhouse. Her wound was accidental, but she had bled to death before the battle was over. Emer felt sorry for the girl.

  “Brina has just died of her wounds,” Freydis told her. “She didn’t deserve that fate. She was stupid and I didn’t like her but she was loyal to the end. They found her draped across Rolf’s body.”

  “Then they feast in the afterlife together and that is what Brina would have wanted.”

  Emer went to rest and slept through all the comings an
d goings in the longhouse. She awoke in mid afternoon to find that the burials had taken place. Dag and Hari rode out of the settlement shortly afterwards with some of Dag’s crew.

  “Hari came to tell you where he was going but I would not let him wake you,” Kolla said, handing her a cup of ale.

  “Edan?”

  “Alive, talking, drinking. Go and see him. I think you will be pleased.”

  Emer was very happy. Edan could speak to her although his speech was slow and painful. He could drink and even lift his hand. His eyes were bloodshot, when he forced open his swollen lids. He looked awful but better than he had the night before.

  In the days that followed, his recovery continued. There was another moment of worry when he tripped and jarred his chest, but the bleeding from his lips, which everyone feared, did not occur. He began to talk of going home.

  “I want to go back, too,” Hari said. Hari seemed to have a new spring in his step, thought Emer. Now the fighting was over and the settlement quiet. It was as if all his cares had fallen away. He looked and sounded happy and Emer rejoiced.

  “Has it been decided who will rule here, if you do not?” she asked.

  “Not yet, although Kolla and several others asked me to stay. They don’t know what Dag will be like as a chieftain.”

  “Fair and just, I imagine, like his father, but what did you tell them?”

  “I said that I believe Dag wants to remain and so does some of his crew. If he is here, there can be no other leader.”

  “Has he spoken to you then?”

  “In passing. I’ll ask him when we ride out tomorrow into the mountains.”

  It had been decided that the village was peaceful enough for Hari and Dag to go and find Atli’s treasure. They would divide it according to the contract and they had sent for Beacan, the lovsigemann, to make sure that all was done correctly